


30 Shades of Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

by TheWritingMagi



Series: Dimitri and Byleth [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Background Ashe/Dedue, Character Deconstruction, Character Development, Character Study, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd-centric, Episodic style, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Not Canon Compliant, POV Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Post-Canon, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Time Skip, Redemption, Soft Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, War, background felix/annette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-02 01:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20574578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingMagi/pseuds/TheWritingMagi
Summary: The various sides and emotions of Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, and how he handles them.





	1. Fear

**Author's Note:**

> This will include a variety of emotions and LOTS of angst, fluff, and some smut. You have been warned.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri fails to save Byleth, and it begins his downward spiral.

Dimitri felt the immense quake of the earth as the dragon screeched its anger; it was scrambling for something, and it took Dimitri a moment to realize what it was going after.

The professor. Byleth was teetering on the edge of the cliff, the stone collapsing around her like the ground was opening to swallow her whole. That chasm was no mere fall: it promised a certain end within its depths.

There was screaming suddenly, and only Claude’s horrified glance to him made Dimitri realize it was himself.

“_ Byleth! _” was all he could properly shriek before pouncing forward in the midst of battle to reach her.

Time slowed to a crawl, the air feeling as though he were wading through a bog made of the mist of shattered earth and blood. His legs burned as he ran,_ not fast enough _, and his vision tunnelled until only her navy hair was all he could see as she lost her balance and just barely caught the cliff edge.

He reached her after what felt like years and dropped to his knees, tossing aside his lance. “Take my hand!” he barked to Byleth, extending his arm as far as it would allow him. 

Byleth cried out, grasping at the stone cliff to reach him. She was still too far from Dimitri for him to haul her up himself, just out of his hands yet _ so close _. Her eyes were frantic, wide with gripping fear and tears. He grit his teeth and cursed the deep-down fear of falling as well.

“_ Give me your hand! _ ” he bellowed again, trying his damnedest to get closer. Almost, _ almost- _

She was there, and then she was gone.

Dimitri had felt her warmth just before it disappeared. All that followed her down were her screams of terror as she plummeted into the chasm far below.

_ Byleth. _

His own screams followed her as well, her name on his lips as he watched the darkness swallow Byleth whole. Even as the cliff began to collapse, Dimitri couldn’t stop the sobs from clutching his chest and pinning him to the ground.

_ Byleth. _

Someone grabbed him by the arm and dragged him up from his shocked state. “Please stand, Your Highness,” a gentle and firm voice asked of him, not waiting for him to comply and instead pulling him from the quickly dissolving cliffside. “It is no longer safe for us to remain here!”

_ Byleth. _

_ “I’m not entirely sure what courting entails,” she admitted, the flush in her cheeks deep from his proposal, spreading to the tips of her ears. Dimitri, mesmerized by the astonishing and alien change in expression, couldn’t help but smile at the sight. _

_ “Neither am I,” he said carefully, returning to himself. “But I know you are still my professor… Perhaps even asking has been tactless, in which case, I deeply apologize.” _

_ “No, don’t apologize,” Byleth replied slowly, the colour fading from her features. She fell silent for a moment, evidently deep in thought, before saying, “We are indeed faculty and student, but outside of that, outside of the monastery, you are a _ prince. _ For a prince to ask to court a mercenary seems…” _

_ He knew what she is going to say: that it would go nowhere. He would be king one day and would be required to marry one of the nobles of Faerghus. Royal blood was still noble blood after all. _

Think carefully on your next words, _ Dimitri reminded himself. But damn it all, Byleth was the only woman to enthrall him so, with her incredible intellect in so many fields, her kindness to all those around her, her startling beauty that had attracted more than just Dimitri as an admirer. _

_ “You have surpassed enough expectations for me to know my future will not hinder you.” He smiled and remained at arm’s length despite himself. “Besides, I don’t propose marriage: only companionship, if you wish it.” _

_ Byleth! _

It took a long while for the ringing of the crashing stone to stop reverberating through his skull. It was as if they were trying to crush him from the inside out. Then silence descended, and he realized he was sitting by a fire.

How much time had passed? How long had he allowed himself to be absent when those relying on him needed him most? What kind of prince was he to do such a thing-

“Dimitri.”

He blinked and noticed Felix sitting at his side, who was holding out food to him. Dimitri took a breath, suddenly feeling incredibly tired, and looked away. All he wanted to do was sleep and forget- 

_ “Dimitri!” _

The voice screamed in his ear some time later, jerking him from sleep. He trembled as his heart raced painfully in his chest. A quick glance around told him he was alone as the others of his house slept around him in the foliage of the forest floor.

_ “That’s right. You’re _ alone _ now, aren’t you? First your parents and Glenn, and Edelgard has betrayed you… Now you’ve let _ me _ die.” _

There it was again. Dimitri jolted to his feet this time, snatching his lance to combat the phantom taunting him in the forest.

_ “Such a fool to let me fall and leave me for dead…” _

His breath hitched. “No,” he hissed, snarling as he saw a figure approaching him. Perhaps a trick of the darkness, but it was undoubtedly her.

She smiled at him, ethereal in the moonlight, almost _ real _ . Dimitri grit his teeth. “She cannot be _ dead, _” he growled, either to convince her or himself. To that, she smiled wide, baring sharp teeth and cruel eyes.

She followed him as he left the makeshift camp, followed him through the shadows and into the canyon below Garreg Mach. She snickered first as his hunt availed nothing, until she began outright laughing at him. _ “Dead, dead!” _ she screamed at him while he wandered, searching for where Byleth had fallen or for a sign of where she had gone.

He never found even a trace of a body.

“No, no, no,” Dimitri murmured, eyes wild, frantic, _ where is she where is she, _ and he could hear nothing but the ghost’s cackling behind him. _ She’s gone. _He screeched bloody murder into the night air, the ghost sliding her arms around him with a sickening grin of triumph. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohoho, is that ANGST I see on the horizon? Yes, I do believe it is.


	2. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri has many ghosts, but one in particular is more demon than ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another angsty take. You ready?

Dimitri breathed, the air musty and thick in reply. He shoved down the urge to cough, the years of training his body to comply despite pain and injury sinking its talons into him.

Garreg Mach was nothing but a husk now, filled with ghosts and undesired nostalgia wandering the halls. Dimitri had despised it from the moment he returned to the ruin, but his hunt demanded it. He had to continue.

_ “Stupid boy; why do you just sit here?” _

He winced. It was foolish to think she would leave him be today, in peace and mourning.

“I leave at dawn,” Dimitri hissed in return, gripping his lance tight to himself from where he had collapsed against a wall. “I need rest-”

_ “You rest more than the dead!” _she snapped back, suddenly appearing before his eyes.

Five years had been cruel to his memory, and as he had begun to forget Byleth’s face, a monstrous parody took her place in his head. Her eyes had faded to black voids behind tangled hair, and her once fair skin had cracked like marble in places, revealing more darkness within. To make matters worse, a once neutral expression had become harsh and sneering as she looked down on him with nothing but contempt.

The woman he had once adored was nothing more than his nightmare now.

_ “Stand,” _ she demanded of Dimitri. She held the Sword of the Creator in hand, the same sword Byleth had fallen to her death with. _ “Stand, or be damned, you sorry excuse for-” _

“_ Silence! _” Dimitri screeched, leaping to his feet and slamming the shaft of his lance against the stone. “The thieves will die: why must you continue to badger me, demon?!”

They both paused, but he held fast with his glare. On any other occasion, he would have shrunk away from her burning eyes and begged forgiveness for saying such a thing to her: she was all that remained of Byleth.

But today was the only time he would remember Byleth for her true self and not as the apparition that haunted his every moment. He had done enough to earn that much.

“They will _ die _ ,” Dimitri murmured, shaking as he attempted to no avail to rein his rage. “But if it would _ please _ you…”

She narrowed her eyes, scorn set deep within them. _ “The only thing that would please me is her _ head _ on a pike.” _

A new flame abruptly lit in his chest at the words. On that, at least, they agreed. Snarling, he merely said, “I know.”

With that, Dimitri stormed through her as she evaporated back into his head with a sickly sweet smile upon her shattered face.

The stone walls of monastery creaked as the draft of the approaching new day whispered into existence. He listened for footfalls, the scrape of a blade, or the whistle of an arrow. He always had to be ready, always prepared to counter, defend, kill. They forced it, _ willed _ it of him. If he died, then their deaths would never be avenged. If he died, _ she _ would disappear completely. He would not allow it.

“Dimitri-”

He spun, lance high and ready to strike as his other hand shot forward. “What must I do to be _ rid _ of you, demon?!”

But he stopped short when his gauntleted fingers curled around warm flesh.

Stunned, he stumbled back from her, nostrils flaring with disgust. “What manner of sorcery is this?!” he cried, staring at her. He had expected to grasp nothing but air. “You’re supposed to be nothing more than a phantom!”

She stared back, as utterly shocked as him. Her hands cradled her neck where he had grabbed her, but where he expected malice in her eyes, he found… _ relief. _

Dimitri clenched his hands, baring his teeth at the emotion. One he did not recognize on the demon. “What are you?” he growled, taking another step back. “Answer me!”

He wanted her to start cackling at him, to be another cruel joke his mind was playing on him. Had she embedded herself so deeply that she was in full control of what he physically felt now? That _ monstrous- _

“Don’t you… recognize me?” she ventured softly, confusion overtaking the relief. “I’ve been told five years have passed, but…” She was hesitant, as if she had sensed his disdain. “Have things truly changed so much?”

_ She isn’t lying. _

The notion hit Dimitri as if he had fallen upon the stone floor. It was her. _ Really _ her. 

_ Byleth. _

How had she survived such a fall? It should have shattered her bones, broken her body in two and spilt her blood across the canyon floor. Yet here she stood in one piece.

“You…” he started, not knowing what to say as his eyes widened. His heart thundered in his chest, quelling the fire that had taken root there, and he stepped forward once more, closer. To her. “I searched Zanado for _ days! _ ” The realization melted into anger. She had not died. She had _ left _ them… _ him. _ “Why didn’t you find us if you were alive all this time?!”

“Dimitri-” his name sounded so innocent on her tongue, “-I only woke last night. What was five years for you has been a mere few seconds for me. My body has aged, but my mind has not been awake.” The slightest of smiles graced her fair features, his memory returning moments of her happiness to him once more. So he had not forgotten. “To find you alright was my only hope.”

The urge to rush forward and fold her into his arms was immeasurable and almost unbearable. _ Almost. _ He had spent the last five long years with what little memory he had left of Byleth, and the demon that taunted him unending. His affection for her had grown and twisted into something so deplorable, _ despicable _, that he would not allow himself to go near it ever again.

Goddess have mercy on him, she was so _beautiful._

Dimitri turned away from her smile, scowling. He would not taint Byleth as he had done his memory. No matter what. _ No matter what. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadness is next, which will be one HELL of a ride.


	3. Sadness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sunset over Garreg Mach makes Dimitri realize he has no right to happiness.

In the days after Byleth’s miraculous - yet unexplainable - return, she hunted him down through Garreg Mach relentlessly to see if he is alright and asking if he would attend the councils she had with the others. Each time, Dimitri would shove past her and demand his space.

On the fifth day, she asked, “Why do you continue to avoid me?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Because you left a demon to _ torture _ me for the last five years.”

She frowned, obviously dissatisfied with his answer. “And that is my fault?”

“ _ Yes! _ ”

It wasn’t the truth of course, but Byleth didn’t seek him out the next day. Or the next. Or the next after that.

He chastised himself for missing her presence so quickly. She was nothing more than a nuisance to be pushed aside whenever she came anyways. Useful to get him through the Imperial army to Enbarr, but only so much. He didn’t need her. He had never needed her.

As time passed and the monastery grew more lively once more, Dimitri came from the corner of Garreg Mach he had claimed to glance over the high balconies and landings to find her.

Sometimes he saw her teaching again, playing at the school teacher persona she had donned years ago. Other times she sparred with Felix and Sylvain, honing her own skills against those which had done nothing but grow in the five years she had missed. Once, he even found her headed down into the hamlet outside of the monastery walls with Ashe or Mercedes, something she used to do frequently back in their academy days when it was still safe to do so. He couldn’t tell from the distance he remained at, but he suspected she smiled warmly whenever she was with the others.

She no longer sought him out. Dimitri had lost his privilege of being one of her priorities.

Good riddance.

And yet, he found himself in the Goddess Tower eventually. One of the last places he would have thought to return to, but something had pulled him there, something that quieted the voices enough for him to hear the wind of nightfall over the monastery.

Dimitri wanted to remain there, in the welcomed silence. It was a luxury he rarely was granted by his cruel thoughts, and one he cherished immeasurably.

He leaned against a stone outlook, staring across the rocky landscape below. In the backdrop of the mountain range, candlelight shone from windows here and there, and he let his mind wonder what those people could be doing at such an hour. 

What was  _ she _ doing right now?

Closing his eyes, he thought of her. Not the broken and twisted version which had plagued him and he blamed her for, but  _ Byleth _ as she had returned. Her bright smile, knowing eyes, slow hands. She reached for him and warmth seemed to radiate through him as it had not in so many moons.

Yet another luxury he could not afford.

_ No. _ He would not allow himself to even think of her. Finding and killing the emperor was all that mattered.

As he forced the warm thoughts aside, Dimitri heard footsteps as they came up the stairs. They were pointed and calculated, but careful in their approach, as though they guessed what awaited at the top. He knew only one who would do as such.

He turned as Byleth reached the top step and revealed herself. Their eyes met for a moment, but Dimitri forced himself to look away first and return to the view of the monastery below.

“Can’t sleep?” he said simply.

Byleth sighed. Not exasperated or vexed, but…  _ exhausted _ . Dimitri felt his heart clench at the sound as she came up beside him. “It’s hard to believe I should be sleeping at all after how much of it I did.”

He grunted in reply, grinding his teeth as he fought with himself over what to say. What to do. The last time they were here, he had almost pulled her into his arms and kissed her for the first time. Instead, worrying over her reaction, he had stepped quickly back and thrown away his last chance to touch Byleth before…

_ Before she fell. _

Dimitri grasped the stone, bracing himself. He needed to leave, needed to escape from her suddenly suffocating aura and return to the wailing voices to he set himself straight, to remember his mission, his purpose. Kill  _ her _ and satiate their cries of anguish. Then he would be free.

He had begun to leave, taking a step back before looking away from the window, before she said, “Wait, Dimitri.”

He halted, as if frozen by the sound of her voice. He dared not speak for he no longer trusted himself to speak from his mind and not his heart.

When the silence stretched, he could practically  _ hear _ her face fall in disappointment. Nonetheless, she spoke. “Please don’t… Will you stay a while?”

Was this really the same Byleth who had never spoken with more than a neutral tone? She sounded so forlorn. So  _ emotional _ .

Vulnerable even.

Dimitri wrenched his hand from her as she had begun to reach for him. “ _ Don’t _ touch me,” he snarled, a sharp look passing between him. Byleth may have changed, but so had he. He would not become distracted by her, would not allow her to torment him again.

Or, perhaps, he would torture  _ himself _ by tearing away from her.

With that, he swept away like a fading dream and didn’t look back upon her pained face. The dim light of the moon was the only comfort she would receive that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, fluffy joy is next.


	4. Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri and Byleth burn a body and make a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flufffluffflufffluffflufff

Redemption was no linear thing: Dimitri knew that more than anyone. But he could recall years later the exact moment he felt it begin for him.

Garreg Mach had been quiet that night, grateful for rest before the advance on Grondor Field. The cold of winter was beginning to set in around the stone walls, and game was becoming scarce and difficult to procure for the ever-growing army that defended Faerghus.

And someone was stalking Byleth through the halls.

Not Dimitri, of course, but  _ he _ was following the culprit through said halls. After spending the day in the company of Dedue exchanging stories and catching up, learning what had happened in the aftermath of the so-called execution, he had decided to retire to his old quarters. They had not been used since the night before the monastery fell years ago, so they would be dusty, no doubt, but serviceable. He had no desire to sleep among the rubble that night (and Dedue had  _ insisted _ , threatening to sleep alongside him in that rubble). 

And as he had drifted through each hall, giddy as a boy, his blood ran cold at the sight by the stairs.

Byleth had been coming down, the books piled up in her arms indicative of her venture to the library upstairs at such a late hour. That initially had stopped Dimitri, eyes widening at the chance encounter. He had paused, thoroughly contemplating going to help her, before noticing something move in the shadows after Byleth.

He wanted to run the cloaked figure through the moment he noticed them, but what if it was another member of the army?

But who would be  _ following _ Byleth instead of speaking to her?

So there Dimitri was, holding his breath as he slinked after Byleth and her potential assailant. They had reached the courtyard where the rooms were situated, and it was there that Dimitri decided the figure had ill intent towards the professor. No well-meaning person would remain in Byleth’s shadow and only come out at her personal quarters.

The flash was sudden as Byleth unlocked the door of her room. Dimitri shot forward, true with his aim, and sunk his dagger deep into the neck of the assassin. He exhaled firmly and let the body drop from his hands. A glance told him the face was not one he recognized. Not that it mattered: anyone who made an attempt on Byleth’s life died.

Had it been anyone else, they would have cried out with surprise or screamed in fear. But Byleth merely wheeled around, her blank gaze taking in the crumpled body, then looking up to Dimitri. Their eyes remained locked for a moment before something washed over Dimitri like a wave.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, careful to not wake any of the others. His voice was not harsh nor judging: only worried.  _ Relieved _ she was alive.

Byleth nodded, still holding tightly to her books. “Are you?”

The question took Dimitri aback, but he felt the beginnings of a smile creep onto his lips. “I am, knowing you are safe.”

She began to smile as well, her hand still on the door. “What kept you out so late?” she ventured carefully, and Dimitri felt himself latch onto the continuation of the conversation despite himself. “Does it have something to do with Dedue?”

A chuckle and a nod. “Five years requires a whole evening to share, it seems.”

At that, the silence stretched. Dimitri glanced away, feeling the darkest corner of his mind attempt to shove down the happiness bubbling up. He fought it because for just a moment, he wanted to feel it.

“Dimitri.”

He looked back. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay with you.”

His breath caught at the words. He frowned and paused to sift through his feelings.  _ No _ , he chastised himself and stopped. Byleth had nothing to apologize for, and he told her so.

“But you said-”

“I was angry,” Dimitri interjected.  _ Why can’t I hear the voices all of the sudden? _ “I have been for too long.”

Byleth dropped her hand from the door and took a step forward, away from her door. “Are you still angry?”

Dimitri sighed but didn’t step away. Her eyes held him in place. “Yes. But I have more to be happy for these days. Such as your return.”

Her face softened considerably and her hand hovered as if to reach for him. He had half a mind to return the gesture, but she glanced down at the body, stopping them both.

“Do you suppose they were sent by the Empire?” Byleth wondered aloud, examining the face and clothing hidden beneath the cloak.

“No doubt,” he said in return, leaning down and hefting the body over his shoulder. “Come. Let us burn their body so that they may return to the Empire in the wind.” A much gentler fate than what was granted to those of the Kingdom by the Empire, but Dimitri felt no need to do otherwise. Death was a cruel enough fate.

They left the monastery grounds and brought the poor soul to the rocky plains South, igniting the body in the moonlight. Byleth stood close beside him as they watched the flames, and Dimitri wondered if it was the fire or her that radiated with so much warmth.

“I will see this war through to its end,” he told her, curiously aware of how her hands clenched and unclenched at her side.

“As will I,” she told him in return.

A promise then. One Dimitri intended to keep this time.


	5. Disgust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri doesn't know what it feels like to be wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you weren't expecting EXTRA FLUFF, now were you??

“You called me here for _ this? _”

“Yes.”

“You must be joking.”

“Not in the slightest.”

Dimitri’s scowl deepened. “We aren’t children anymore; I’m not having a _ celebratory dinner. _”

But Byleth, with her ever absent stare, shoved him into a chair at the table regardless. 

Beside him, Felix’s grimace mirrored Dimitri’s impeccably. “Not a word, boar,” he warned.

“You two behave, alright?” Ingrid demanded from across the table, her stern look uncompromising. “Annette has spent all day in the kitchen!” The sounds at the other end of the dining hall and the bob of bright orange hair told Dimitri that Annette still had yet to finish her meal. “She won’t be happy if there is any bickering.”

“I don’t know why-”

“_ Not a word, _” Felix repeated, cutting Dimitri off with a look of his own, likely in defense of his fiance in the kitchen. Dimitri, balking for only a moment, sneered and began to spit out a response, when Byleth put her hand gently on his shoulder.

Her eyes were earnest as she said, “They wanted you to be a part of this. If not for your own enjoyment, at least allow _ them _ to enjoy this.” The others (save Felix, whose glare was hot and piercing against Dimitri’s cheek) all voiced their agreement eagerly, taking him aback.

_ What a waste of my time. _ But he sighed and nodded his assent. _ Just this once _.

Annette bounced up to the table, beaming with a deep casserole dish in hand. “Ta-da!” she announced happily, placing it down for everyone to see: it looked like fish and bean soup to Dimitri, but the curious colour said otherwise. “It’s Queen Loach and bean stew! A bit of a variant of a classic, and I’ve never made it before, but…” Annette’s flushed face glanced around, abashed as she surveyed the faces around the table for reactions.

_ Oh, Goddess save us all. _ Dimitri sucked in a breath, acutely aware of Felix at his side. Annette was nothing but kind to him: why not return the favour? Besides, he had no reason to be cruel. These were his allies, his… 

Dimitri glanced over to Dedue, then Rodrigue, and finally… Byleth, who watched him carefully. These were his allies, his friends, his… 

He shook the thought away. “Come now, let’s try it,” he told Annette, snatching up the ladle to pour himself a bowl.

“Yes, let’s eat,” Gilbert agreed, earning a grin from Annette. The others heartily dug in as well, and Dimitri ate a spoonful, pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t too bad at all.

The meal lasted until dusk descended upon Garreg Mach, the conversation and laughter going long after dessert had finished. With how quickly the war had progressed, it seemed as though it was the first time they were together like that since their academy days. As Dimitri thought about it, watching Byleth smile as Sylvain told a ridiculous joke to her and Ashe, it was the first time in close to five years he had actually sat down with friends for a meal at all. He had spent so long in seclusion that he had forgotten how it felt to be _ wanted. _

To be wanted. Dimitri grimaced once more. The meaning had left him by now. Many wanted him _ dead, _ but even among those at the table, he couldn’t fathom any of them wanting a beast eating with them, or spending time around them. Behind the laughter, he knew Rodrigue sneered at him for what he had become, for throwing away the kindness he had given Dimitri for so many years. Sylvain had never cared for him, not really, and Ingrid hardly glanced his way anymore. It was no secret that Felix thought less than nothing of him. Dedue had always hated him, or at least part of him did: he had never been able to hide it from Dimitri. And Byleth-

His eyes darted from her to the table, suddenly realizing how he was leering at her. Whatever kindness she had for him was in hopes he would become the boy she had liked so much once again. But he was dead, and Dimitri was all that was left.

“Your Highness?”

Annette’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. His eyes drifted up, reluctant to meet her gaze across the table, to find concern written over her features. “Is the food alright? You’re making a face.”

Ah, Annette. The young woman who had treated him as nothing less than a brother since their meeting. Other than Byleth, it had been Annette who had sought him out through the monastery, calling his name incessantly. It was her that left meals for him while he had slept in his stoney corner, and then outside his door when he had reclaimed his old quarters. But perhaps that was nothing more than an obligation.

Then again, perhaps not.

“It’s fine,” Dimitri replied, hoping he didn’t sound harsh or ungrateful. He meant no ill-will, especially to her.

Annette beamed, and Dimitri felt like he had been blinded. “I’m glad!” she chirped happily, and Dimitri duly noted the faint flush over Felix’s face with amusement.

Beside him, Byleth smiled as well. Dimitri harrumphed, but the meal continued pleasantly into the night regardless: and it would become a memory he would cherish for the rest of his days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, back to our regularly scheduled seriousness.


	6. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri and Annette have blueberry pancakes for breakfast.

It wasn’t until Dimitri cleared his throat that Annette noticed him beside her.

“Oh, Your Highness!” she cried, jumping as she realized how close he was. No one else could be found in the library so early in the morning and usually Dimitri wouldn’t be either. Annette, appearing flustered, snapped her book closed and replaced it on the shelf. “Is there something you need?”

“I…” Dimitri faltered. He had _ utterly _ no idea how to broach the subject on his mind. It had struck him suddenly in the night, and the same problem he had now had stopped him from bursting into Byleth’s room in the dead of night. That likely would have been a bad idea, and could have ended with him skewered.

This was good practice then? Goddess protect him, he was such a bumbling _ dolt _.

“Yes,” he finally said in response. He would have to start with that then, as he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Why was this so difficult?

“...Alright?” Annette said slowly, evidently confused. “Anything specific?”

Dimitri paused again. Damn it all! “...Yes.”

“Oh, I see what’s happening!” Dimitri flinched at Annette’s outburst. “Alright, Your Highness, don’t worry! I’ll help you out however I can!”

Grabbing his elbow, she singsonged, “Come on, let’s go for a walk! Fresh air helps me think, you know. Stuffy libraries aren’t good for thinking and talking!”

“Annette-”

Before he knew it, she had pulled him out the doors, down the hall and to the stairwell. “Should we get some breakfast while we’re at it?” Annette mused, Dimitri following behind with a faint look of confusion. “I think blueberry pancakes were on the menu today!”

“Pancakes?” Dimitri asked, dumbfounded by the turn of events as they trotted along. Annette laughed, the sound like a wind chime, and nodded.

“Rodrigue’s forces brought provisions from Fhirdiad, like syrup! Can’t have pancakes without Fhidiad’s famous syrup, now, can we?”

She looked so _ earnest _. In all honesty, Dimitri couldn’t give a damn about syrup and pancakes, but instead he said, “No, I suppose not.”

And, to Annette’s delight, the breakfast procession had begun in the dining hall. Dimitri’s overbearing presence, as well as none other than Annette accompanying him, drew stares and murmurs from the hall. _ Typical _, Dimitri thought with a grimace. He was used to the looks, but when they became directed at Annette, his glare turned sharp as a dagger towards the onlookers.

“Your Highness, I think having someone to talk to would be good for you,” Annette announced once they had collected sufficient pancakes. Dimitri had been staring at his plate, thinking, _ How did this happen, why am I having pancakes for breakfast, _ before glancing back up.

“Someone to talk to?”

“Mhm! I’m thinking about who would be good for that… Professor Manuela perhaps? Mercie? Or maybe... “ She shook away the thought, waving her hand dismissively. “No, no, Byleth would be no good. She’s still trying to figure her own emotions out and you distracting her with those puppy eyes wouldn’t help.”

Dimitri, only then realizing he had already taken a bite out of one of his pancakes, sputtered. “_ Wha _-”

“I’ve got it!” A piece of her breakfast was gobbled up, then she beamed, proud of her realization. “Since I said I’d help you out however I could, I’ll do this! I’m no doctor, granted, but I’m still your friend.” Annette nodded enthusiastically, practically radiating joy from across the table.

“...I don’t think I’m following,” Dimitri admitted, frowning as he finished off his food before the woman rudely surprised him again with another of her witty remarks. “What exactly is it that you’re doing?”

“I’ll be your personal confidant from now on,” Annette declared, heartily putting away more of her pancakes. “I’d like it if you would tell me whenever you’re feeling upset or unhappy, so we can discuss why! Getting to the root of the problem seems to help when dealing with rotten emotions. I did this with Felix way back when too.”

“Felix… confided in you?”

A nod. “He still does, from time to time, and I do it with him whenever I’m feeling down.” She smiled, genuinely happy at the thought of her fiance. “We’re partners, you know. Through thick and thin, that sort of thing. Mercie too!”

Dimitri paused then, and had to think about who he felt like that about. Annette and Mercedes were always so loving and trusting when they were together, and even Felix with his barbed shell was brighter with Annette, and Sylvain as well, now that he thought about it.

As for him… Dedue was the first to come to mind. And the only one. Even then, Dedue only saw himself as Dimitri’s vassal, not a friend and hardly a confidant.

He had spent so long watching his own back, hunting down his vengeance for the dead with such a narrow field of view, that perhaps it was time to place his trust in someone, even if only to this extent.

“Alright,” he eventually agreed, suddenly aware again of the stares pointed their way. “I… will trust you then, Annette.”

“Oh, I’m glad!” Annette cried, clapping her hands together. “Don’t worry, Your Highness, I won’t let you down! So, for our first order of business, what was the matter earlier?”

Dimitri sighed heavily. _ What have I gotten myself into? _ “Well, it was actually about Byleth, you see…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dimileth one on one time next, ya ya


	7. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth tries something out with Dimitri.

Dimitri stood, like a fool, outside the door. He couldn’t bring himself to knock just yet because he knew all too well what was on the other side.

_ Byleth’s personal quarters. _

Why would she invite him here in the first place? He had seen her bring people in for tea from time to time at the table beside her desk (was it beside her desk? Dimitri couldn’t remember), but he couldn’t imagine that was why she was inviting him. Tea was hardly important in the middle of a war, especially with a wretch like him.

He would have to just find out: he couldn’t stand outside her door forever. People would stare, start rumours, pester him  _ and _ Byleth; it was better to just go in now.

Dimitri didn’t have to knock twice before Byleth pulled open the door. “Hello,” she greeted him, her face as stoney as usual. He nodded in return, not sure what he should say, but she saved him the trouble by ushering him in and sitting him down at…

The tea table beside her desk.

“Professor, I-”

“I’m sure you’re wondering what I wanted you here for,” she interjected smoothly, sitting across from him. He nodded, his interest piqued as she reached for a stack of paper on her desk, and oh goddess, the twist of her body was beautiful-

Dimitri harshly snapped himself back to reality. He would not allow himself such filthy thoughts. Not with her.

Byleth pulled her chair around the table until she was beside him, then put a piece of parchment and a quill before him. “Write your name,” she pressed, stoic as her eyes bore into him. He balked, wondering what on earth she was hoping to gain from this exercise. He hesitated, glancing between her and the parchment uneasily, then took the quill and did as he was told.

To his astonishment, and no evident surprise on Byleth’s part, his handwriting was  _ atrocious. _ He had trouble putting together the letters on paper and struggled to keep his hand steady with all the damned straight lines of his name. It took far longer than he would have liked.

Damn it all, he couldn’t even write his own  _ name. _

For a while, they both stared at the scrawled letters in silence. Dimitri could feel the heat of humiliation creeping into his cheeks as he realized he hadn’t written a single word in over five years, having lost his once eloquent writing. It sickened him to think of what his  _ reading _ was like now, another incredibly basic skill he had neglected for years.

Byleth made a sound almost like a sigh, but showed no change in expression. “As I thought. What exactly do you intend to do after this war, Dimitri?”

His first thought was that there was no way he would survive this war. One day, he would be cut down and sent to the next world, along with his family and friends. His suffering would end eventually, be it after he held Edelgard’s head in his hand, or his in hers.

But a moment to think changed this. He… had no idea. “I don’t know,” he answered gruffly, shoving the sheet of parchment away in disgust at his failure of such a  _ simple _ task.

“You are still the legitimate heir to the throne of Fearghus,” Byleth reminded him, her tone even as she kept her eyes on him. “If you take back Fhirdiad, you will have a home to return to once this is all over.”

“I would have to want the throne in the first place for that to happen.”

“Why don’t you want it?”

He scowled at her now. It was obvious, wasn’t it? “I don’t deserve it.”  _ Just as I don’t deserve you. _

Byleth wouldn’t budge. “As you are now, no. You are hardly fit to lead this army, let alone a kingdom.”

Dimitri’s scowl deepened as he felt his temper flare. “What are you  _ getting _ at?”

She must have reached her point, because her blank eyes showed the smallest flash of earnest as her brows knit together. “If you have no regard for your own life and the lives of your allies, why have you not abandoned this crusade and gone to Enbarr yourself? What keeps you here? What is it that stops you from going right now?”

His hand clenched, the metal of his gauntlet scraping noisily in the silent room, before he slammed it against the table and jolted to his feet. “ _ I DO care if you all die! _ ” he roared down at her, his face contorting. He would never hurt Byleth, would never allow  _ anyone _ to hurt Byleth, but he was very close to cracking her tea table down the middle as his fist trembled against it.

Before Dimitri could continue, Byleth got to her feet as well and stood toe to toe with him. His impressive height made no difference to her in the slightest as she squared her shoulders: of course it wouldn’t. She was a mercenary who dealt with beasts and men far larger than him. She had always dealt with bigger things than him. “Then show us!” she demanded. “You  _ do _ deserve the throne: you are compassionate and just enough to change the world for the better. _ That _ is what your family would have wanted!”

“ _ How could you know what they want?! _ ” Dimitri screeched in response to such an assumption. She didn’t hear their pleas for the Emperor's head like he did.  _ She _ was not left with the burden of revenge!

The tension in her body suddenly dissipated, and he watched her as she sighed out the breath she had been holding. She blinked, and Dimitri thought for a wild moment that she was going to cry.

“It is what my father would have wanted for me to do,” she admitted, her eyes leaving him. He stared at her, the surprise of her change in expression overwhelming his anger. “We have all lost people, Dimitri, and I fear we will lose more in the coming battles. That means we need to do all we can to protect those we love, so that they may remain with us.” She swallowed and looked at him once more. “I will not allow you to throw your life away. I want you to have something to live for once the war is over.”

Byleth’s hands brushed over the discarded parchment that bore Dimitri’s name. “Let me help you so that you may become a king deserving of the throne. Trust me so I can help make Fodlan better and see you happy once more.”

Dimitri felt every muscle in his body tense to the point of pain at her words. His eyes were wide and he could feel the thunderous beat of his heart beneath his breastplate. She wanted him to be happy?

The voices were quiet.

The rest of the room suddenly became incredibly fascinating. Odd trinkets were strewn about, some he recognized as keepsakes from Byleth’s former students and others as souvenirs from her mercenary days. Each told a story of when Byleth had made a difference in the life of someone she cared about. He now wished there was something of his that she kept close to her among that collection, something she held dear because it was from him.

“Byleth,” Dimitri stammered, her name foreign on his tongue all of the sudden. “Annette and I talked and… I had… wanted to apologize…”

“I know,” she said. “I am not ready for it just yet. I want us to start simple, like teaching you to write again. Together. Will you wait until I am ready?”

“Always,” he vowed without pause, his features soft as he met her eyes. “And I will trust you, as I always have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, now that I have given you this, get ready to say goodbye to Rodrigue again.


	8. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri and Byleth speak before Gondor Field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey, long time no see! I got stuck in a six month long funk of writer's block, but I was struck with inspiration and decided to give this another go. A heads up, we are now on the countdown to a Dimileth confession: only a few chapters away!

Dimitri rarely rode at the head of the column when the Kingdom’s army marched. There was no need: the true commanders were at the head anyways. Byleth, along with Rodrigue and Gilbert, led the way with heads held high and impassive expressions. His place was not among such noble folk. He was no prince of theirs, not anymore.

Instead, he rode along the flank, just out of earshot of the soldiers. There, he could watch his own back and the treeline, as well as the goings on of the army. _ That _ was where he belonged.

Or so he would have thought before. Byleth had all but thrown herself head-first into making him believe otherwise. In the few weeks before the march on Gronder, lessons on reading, writing, economics, tactics and governance were put together for him to master, and Byleth had been merciless. He expected to at the very least be rusty, as he had been with his writing, but her lessons made him almost sure his tutors in Fhirdiad knew nothing of the world. How had Byleth come to _ know _ such things?

All that incredible knowledge, and she insisted on wasting it on him.

_ We need to do all that we can to protect those we love, _ Byleth had said to him. It was clear she had been referring to her beloved students, whom she trained vigorously to protect themselves when she would not be around. But… could she have also been talking about— 

No. Of course not. There wasn’t anyone else left in the world who loved him. And certainly not her.

But she wanted him to be _ happy. _

Dimitri ground his teeth, as if to ground away the traitorous thoughts. Byleth wanted stability for Fodlan and that could be achieved by putting a well educated pawn on the throne of Fhargus. So be it. He would do whatever she wished of him.

_ After _ the emperor was dead.

“See anything?”

Byleth. “No,” he told her as her stallion fell in line with his mare. His eye remained trained on the trees.

She sighed when he spoke no more. “Edelgard is not so underhanded to ambush us here,” she assured him. “Claude, perhaps, but he may yet be our ally.”

“I doubt it,” Dimitri muttered back, continuing to watch the trees. “It’s to his advantage to keep hidden while we battle the Empire. We deplete each other’s forces and he swoops in to side with the last one standing. No Alliance blood split and he wins either way.”

A pause. “Yes. Claude will prefer it that way.”

After a moment, Byleth goes on. “Then why do you watch the trees?”

“We could still be ambushed. The Empire and the Alliance are not the only threats to us. Mercenaries, rogue groups from either side, _ wolves _ even—” Dimitri stopped and looked at Byleth. There was a faint smile to be seen on her face. “You’re testing me.”

“Yes,” Byleth said blatantly. “You’re passing.”

Dimitri blinked at that. “No thanks to you,” he admits quietly.

“It has been a matter of weeks. You learn quickly and are far more dedicated than you give yourself credit for. It is clear you still want to return to Fearghus as her king.”

“I _ don’t.” _

“You keep saying that, but we both know it isn’t true, Dimitri.”

He has found that his one weakness has become his name on her lips. Dimitri shuddered, his body grasping at the warmth her voice brought to him and his teeth grinding against the urge to beg her to say it again. She made him sound like he wasn’t a murderer or an animal, but a man, and a true and noble one at that. She saw _ Dimitri. _

“I want the emperor dead,” he spat out instead, hoping against hope that she didn’t hear the tremble in his voice. “Whatever happens after is up to you.”

Byleth stared at him. “And you said you would trust me.”

He nodded. “I did. I do.”

“Then trust me when I say that the crown will be yours when this comes to an end, and it will be because _ you _ sought to reclaim it. I am only here to help you, not to determine your future for you. Whatever happens after will be of your doing alone.”

Dimitri gave her a look of scepticism. “Why are you so sure about this? What have I done to earn such faith from you?”

She smiled at him again, and Dimitri felt his heart skip a beat as though he were a teenager again. “You have proven yourself before. You will do so again.”

They watched each other for a while, the ambience of the march and their trotting steeds the only noise to break their silence. Then Dimitri said, in the shakiest of voices, “Do you have faith in me to keep you safe?”

He thought for a moment that surprise was what he saw flash over her face, but her smile muddled and her eyes softened impossibly. “Yes,” she murmured, and Dimitri heard the blood rush in his ears. “Do you feel the same?”

Dimitri’s mouth hung open for a moment, utterly entranced by her beautiful face, her ethereal eyes. “I do. Of course I do.”

“Then let me keep you safe, king of Faerghus, until a time comes when you no longer require me.”

“Such a time will never come.”

The words surprised him, and he immediately steeled his face once more. “Faerghus would fall apart if you ever left me to my own devices,” he said, his voice now forcibly bland.

But the smile remained on Byleth’s face regardless, and Dimitri wondered if he would be able to fight the coming battle without her by his side. If he would ever be able to do anything ever again without her by his side.


	9. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri begins to indulge in what he had denied himself for too long.

By the time she came, the rain had washed away the last of Dimitri’s tears.

She said nothing. Nothing needed to be said: not yet. She merely knelt beside him in the storm and eased his pain with nothing but her presence.

That was enough for him.

The grave before them was empty of course. No dirt had been overturned there for the Duke Fraldarius, no body buried at the foot of the headstone. Rodrigue remained beneath the ash of the battlefield, alongside all the other soldiers who had died.

The burden of guilt weighed heavily on him, as heavy as the responsibility for Faerghus had once been. It was something he had not felt so strongly in such a long time, not since…

Well. 

Dimitri looked at Byleth, and she looked back. The rain had not let up, soaking them both to the bone, but her eyes still shone like starlight through the misty air, like life  _ itself. _

Five years had been an age for him. He was alone, so  _ utterly alone, _ for an eternity. The living had gone, so the dead grew louder, until he heard nothing but the distorted voices of the ones whose lives had been cut short. Every hour dragged as through he were in a waking nightmare, each day spent drowning out the screams in his head with the screams of his enemies.

To gaze upon the one he had come to love and hate the most in the world was almost too much now, almost too cruel to his dulled vision. To finally hear something other than all those crying voices… far more overwhelming.

And to think, for that something to be pure  _ silence. _

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, choking through the lump in his throat as he took in her radiance freely, which he had not allowed himself to do thus far. “For what I’ve done. I’ve hurt you, pushed you away, forced you to walk into mortal danger—”

His voice caught. He could see  _ her _ all of the sudden, the demon who had haunted him with Byleth’s face for five years. The one who had tortured him, the one who had cursed him for letting her die. Her cracked face grinned and said, _ “Poor, weak Dimitri.” _

But that had not been Byleth. Byleth had instead  _ lived. _ She had come back to Dimitri before anyone else and had been the first in years to show him true kindness. The relief in her eyes at the sight of him had been so staggering… 

_ “To find you alright was my only hope.” _

The true reason to live instead of survive had become his love for her, hadn’t it? Rodrigue’s last words were for Dimitri to live for himself, and what he wanted most in the world was to live  _ with her. _ For  _ her _ to be happy. A future where she smiled unhindered by grief and suffering. A future where he could do the same.

_ His love. _

“You did not…deserve this.”

His voice was small and his eyes squeezed shut. Though all his tears had been shed in mourning Rodrigue, the tightness in his chest remained. He had treated the one he cared for most so cruelly for so long. Her return he had taken for granted, so much so that he had become angry at the thought of her not coming to him sooner. How  _ selfish.  _ He should have  _ celebrated, _ but instead, he had bruised her throat and scorned her. He did not deserve her kindness, her strength, her mere presence,  _ none of it. _

…No. Maybe he did not deserve her  _ now, _ but that didn’t mean he could not be a better man for her. Perhaps a better leader.

One day, maybe even a better king. 

“Will you allow me to make amends?”

For a time, Byleth merely held his gaze when he looked back to her. The rain fell softly around them all the while. Dimitri wondered stupidly if she had not heard him through the storm, thought to repeat himself, then wondered again: perhaps she did not wish to answer at all? Was he too far gone then? Had he waited too long to apologize?

Then Byleth Eisner, the goddess incarnate and the embodiment of strength and resilience, smiled at Dimitri and it was as though all the colour of the world suddenly returned at once, like a gust of wind through his hair.

“Yes,” she said simply and softly. “But promise me this: you must not turn a blind eye anymore. Not to Faerghus, not to your allies, and most importantly not to yourself. The people in this monastery rely on you and you can rely on  _ them.” _

Slowly, Byleth leaned toward him and lifted his gauntleted hand in her own.  _ “I _ am here, Dimitri. Remember that you can always rely on me. The weight of leadership and the burdens of your past, you can share those with me.”

Dimitri listened, enraptured. He had begun to feel the ache of his clenched jaw but gladly ignored it in favour of not missing a single second of Byleth smiling at him. There was not a snide hint to it, nor was it forced for his sake or out of propriety. The words she spoke to him were absolutely  _ genuine. _

_ “She’s lying, you know she is, boy! No one relies on you, least of all  _ her.  _ She’s toying with you. She’ll stab you in the back as soon as you’re no longer of use—!” _

He had to close his eyes to quiet her cruel voice in his head. Usually he would have spoken and shouted to drown her out, but a squeeze to his hand brought serene quiet immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Byleth asked when he opened his eyes once more. The smile had been replaced with her usual stoic face, but instead with concern in the furrow of her brow. “Is it the voices?”

Dimitri sucked in a breath, anxiety gripping his lungs all of the sudden. He had never really told anyone about the voices of those who had died instead of him, even though most could guess what was going on. What would happen if he did? Would he be shunned? Thought mad? Be thrown aside— 

“Dimitri.”

Byleth brought his attention back to her with her gentle voice. “You can talk to me. Ease your burdens by sharing them with me.  _ I’m _ here.”

And indeed she was, quite alive and whole right before him. The first person he could save to atone for his past.

So Dimitri released his breath and began.


	10. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth helps Dimitri realize some things.

Dimitri was less than overjoyed when Byleth stumbled across him the next morning: newly dry and fully clean, thank the Goddess, a feat he had not achieved in many a year.

But he was in nothing more than a bath towel, having trusted the privacy of his room, and his face was covered in blood.

Byleth stared at him impassively and Dimitri stared back.

Had he forgotten to lock the door…?

“You’re hurt,” Byleth said bluntly.

“Yes,” Dimitri, who was holding a shaving blade, automatically replied.

Goddess grant him strength, what a state to be caught in. He cursed the flush in his skin deepening as Byleth blinked and unabashedly  _ eyed _ his practically naked body.

And his bloody cheekbone. Of course.

“Let me.”

“What?”

“I said, let me,” Byleth repeated as through speaking to a child. She stepped forward and wrested the blade from his hand with a straight face. For a moment, he wondered if she was as disgruntled as he was.  _ No, that’s unlikely. It’s not as though  _ I _ burst into  _ her _ room without clothing—  _

Dimitri frantically shoved the ensuing scene out of his mind’s eye, inadvertently reddening his face even further.

(Not that his face could become any redder with it covered in blood.)

“When was the last time you properly shaved?” she asked, soaking a cloth in the wash basin beneath the mirror. “That isn’t just a small nick.”

He thought of the disgustingly scraggly stubble he had been sporting for the past five months. He had hardly shaved at all prior to returning to the monastery, having seen no point in the task since facial hair didn’t impede his lance. When he did, it was when the blasted beard started to itch and done with a usually blunt dagger in the dark that never gave him a clean cut look: it merely finished the job.

Unfortunately, that meant his hands weren’t practiced with such a sharp blade so close against his skin. Yet another skill he had lost to neglect.

Dimitri swallowed hard, counting the time gone past. “...Almost four years.”

Byleth paused, though the movement was minute and quickly passed. “I used to do this for Jeralt,” she said instead, gingerly rubbing the wet cloth over his bloodied skin. “He wasn’t very good with his hands in his later years, so I did it for him. He would cut himself if he ever tried to shave without me.”

Dimitri listened, content to hear the sound of her seldom spoken voice. He felt his tensed muscles begin to relax and his heart ease the longer she reminisced. There was something comforting about how she told him of someone she loved.

_ Does she speak of me that way? _

“I...need to take this off.”

Her fingers were brushing against the strap of his eyepatch he realized.

He jerked away as though she had burned him.  _ “No.” _

Byleth’s brows furrowed in what he could only describe as impatience. Her coddling tone dissipated immediately. “It is not a part of you. Take it off.”

Dimitri grimaced, tensing again. “You don’t need to see what it hides.”

“The thing is in the way of me shaving you. And I wish to see your face, Dimitri.”

_ Ah. _ His name on her lips. A privilege he so rarely received and one that made him melt like snow to a blistering flame. The effect was instant, and he would have chastised his weakness if he didn’t feel so damn  _ good. _

It took her continued stern gaze to finally get him to relent and reach for the leather. Slowly, his eye locked with Byleth’s, he pulled the patch from over his head.

Her stoic face softened impossibly so as she took in the sight. “This was no accident,” she murmured eventually as she brought her hands to cup his face. “Was it?”

He sucked in a breath and shook his head. “It was Cornelia. The night before my execution. She came into my cell and…”

It surprised him to find his throat tightening at the memory. Dimitri had been stabbed many times after that night (and usually far worse), but nothing like what Cornelia had done, not like the slow twisting of her blade through his screaming and the wild look of triumph and hatred on her face.

Byleth waved a simple healing spell over the cut on his cheek, then traced over the empty socket and the ugly scar. Something shifted in her eyes as she did, something dark and vengeful that was alien in the teal halo of her irises, and she said, “I will kill her myself. She will never hurt you again.”

Despite the remnants of fear that clung to Dimitri, her words rang true. She was making him an oath, a promise of vengeance. It was all too familiar and struck deep within the core of his very being.

“No,” he begged, his body jolting forward subconsciously to grasp at her.  _ “No.” _

Byleth must have realized what he meant. He felt her hands on his shaking arms as he held her and her muscles relaxed from the initial shock of him grabbing her. “It’s alright.”

“No more death,” he murmured, tightening his grip on her as he felt the searing heat of her beneath his hands.  _ So warm… _ “The bloodshed  _ must _ stop,  _ please.” _

He was already the cause of so much. He had seen the light fade from the eyes of a thousand men and women, their bodies grow cold and pale as life seeped from the wounds he had made. Hearing that violence in Byleth’s voice was both relieving and sickening: he would not allow her to do such a thing in his name, even if a horribly delighted part of him wanted her to.

The senseless death needed to end.

“I’m sorry.” Her hands left his arms and came to rest around his shoulders to return his embrace. “You’re right. But for her to do something so cruel to you, it makes me…”

_ It makes you feel something. Something for me. _

“I know,” Dimitri whispered, keeping her close. “I would feel the same if it were you.”

_ Love drives us mad, doesn’t it? It drove me over the edge, and it brings out the killer in you. Love—  _

Love.

Dimitri loved her.

Completely and unendingly, from then until the end of time.

He breathed deeply, in and out as the weight of his realization came over him. As he did, he felt like it was the first time in many, many years that he had a clear head.

He smiled and held the woman he loved a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second third of this story will focus on what I'll call the Fhirdiad Arc and it will feature some spicy chapters! The rating will change and I'll tag accordingly when those are posted, plus warn you in the notes at the beginning. Anyways, I hope you have been enjoying this so far! I really have since it has been a challenge to convey one prominent emotion in the whole chapter. It makes you stop and focus on the ambience of the words as much as the actually scene that's going on, which is a great exercise!
> 
> Weird little side note too: I've gotten a burst of inspiration for this fic because I've gotten into bookbinding and I REALLY want to finish this and be proud of how it turns out so that I can physically bind it into a book and have it on my bookshelf. It wouldn't be all that big since it's only going to be ~31000 words, but I think it would be a big boost to my confidence to have one of my favourite fics on display at home. I'm such a book nerd, I know.


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